


For No One

by sharkie



Series: Across the Stars [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Doomed Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Non-Explicit Sex, Nonstandard Grammar, References to PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie/pseuds/sharkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And in her eyes, you see nothing.</p><p>
  <b>[Now non-canon-ish, possible rewrite pending]</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a complicated view of Corso-as-a-character. Really complicated. Other people have explained it better. Personally, I think he's a perfectly sweet romance if your Smuggler is entirely receptive towards him (and is light side and eventually lays off the flirting), but I always had difficulty justifying how he and my Smuggler would stay together in the long term if she keeps intentionally making him jealous, and he keeps trying to protect-her-yet-not-what-even. 
> 
> This is a short lead-up to another story, in which Corso will die, because I have a really twisted concept of making things better.
> 
> Interspersed with stanzas from _The Blackbird_ by Ted Hughes, because why the heck not. 
> 
> title and summary music: [for no one](http://grooveshark.com/#!/s/For+No+One/4lDJ9r?src=5), cover by john pizzarelli

> _You were the jailer of your murderer -_
> 
> _Which imprisoned you._
> 
> _And since I was your nurse and your protector_
> 
> _Your sentence was mine too._

What do you love, Captain? he asks, and she says credits, starships, and shootin’, in that order. He tries again: _who_ do you love? Pause, shuffle, frown. Myself.

It’s a lie.

Sometimes he sees her staring at the galaxy map, at nowhere in particular, her blue blue _blue_ eyes running hot and cold, bright, and lonely like a sunset on Hoth. He prefers Dantooinian sunrises - he's itchin' to take her there someday, wants to compare her favourably to the blba trees all thorny and pretty and poised to impale, but he’s never been good at words.  She kinda hates herself, he knows, which is a damn cryin' shame.

Actions, he’s good at those. Shootin’, and torching, and helping people, in that order. Right now he brushes a hand against her arm, gentle-like. She leans into his touch, and sighs heavily. 

What do you love, Corso? he thinks, and he’s beginning to wonder if he maybe loves the Captain.


	2. Exposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> appropriate music: [i want you](http://grooveshark.com/#!/s/I+Want+You/3Dit5W?src=5%22) by elvis costello

> _You played at feeling safe. As I fed you_
> 
> _You ate and drank and swallowed_
> 
> _Sliding me sleepy looks, like a sucking babe,_
> 
> _From under your eyelids._

Ayy is Twi’leki for stars. It fits. He calls her that a couple of times 'til it sounds silly even to him. She laughs, melodious in its coarseness.

Daesha means queen, she tells him. He grins. Captain Starqueen, 'course. Last name? he asks. That's baggage, she says, and by now he shoulda figured out she has no interest in what she can't sell. But you're plenty interested, and you prob'ly can't sell me. Yeah? Wanna bet?

* * *

Ah, for Ord Mantell: where Separatists were bad and guns were good and we could just run in shootin'. I could be persuaded into a little drunken gunplay, she says. He smells like blasterfire and bad alcohol - a sick combination and such a turn-on. His drawl gets stronger when he's wasted. Why don't we have more fun on this ship? he suggests, loudly. He tells her 'bout the rontos back home. Got any suggestions that  _don't_ involve farm animals, Riggs? (A few - but they'd take a while to explain. Care to let me show ya?) 

He takes a step forward. Takes two steps back. Apologizes. 

I've got a few ideas of my own I could show ya, she shoots back, grasping at the moment, mind still stuck at 'gunplay'. 

Golly, he sounds like her dead ma: you deserve a man you can let your guard down with, someone who'll take care of ya for a change. She replies, sharply, reflexively: the day I need someone to take care of me, I'm sellin' the ship and taking up knitting. 

Strongest woman, strongest person, strongest tool in the shed - it's all the same to her. I’m not one of your damn blasters, she thinks: strength's not all 'bout firepower. You’ve got a finger on my trigger and you keep hesitatin’, like you're afraid I'm gonna blow up in your face, and where does that leave us? What use’s a gun you don’t wanna shoot?

* * *

 Work, work, work. There're better ways for a beautiful woman to spend her time. Riggs is trying to be cool. It's adorable, she thinks, with a hint of unwarranted cynicism, like watchin' an akk dog puppy flail in the water and  _nearly drown_.  I figured you, me, a bottle of Corellian Red -

Oooh. This bodes badly. She's a hard liquor girl. 

I'm sure we can find a cantina with a back room and...his face cracks, awkward mask broken. Sighs, I can't do this. Yeah, I could tell, she laughs. Thought I'd try to be suave like those guys (she does not appreciate the way he says those guys like they're trash like they didn't mean anything to her because they did they all did) who hit you up everywhere we land.  

But you get that every day. You deserve better. (There is nothing, no one better-) Someone who'll treat you like a lady. I'm no lady, she points out, digging her heels into the cockpit's flooring. Being a lady doesn't mean you can't have engine grease on your elbows or a blaster at your hip. It means you deserve respect. It means you make the decision of who to put up with and how to be treated.

What if I don't wanna be treated like a lady? she challenges. We gonna have this lady paradox goin' on? Universe gonna implode 'cause of my stubbornness? No matter what you say - you'll always be that for me.  _Oh, shit_.

* * *

I know how it goes with those guys you meet. A few nights (she can go for a few nights  _and then some_ , thank you very much), a quick goodbye (she can go for a quick goodbye  _and then some_ , thank you very much)...it won't be like that with me. He says this so earnestly it almost breaks her heart to burst his bubble.  

* * *

 I like you, she interjects, but this is all going a little fast for me. I'm just tellin' you what I feel, Captain, I don't expect anything in return. Well, you sure seem to feel damn loads more than most people. He's got a surprise for her. She hates surprises, but she plays along, closes her eyes as instructed, and then there's something hard and long placed in her hands, firm, warm, and when she does get to look-

Oh. Blaster. Thanks.

Sparkles, he announces, proudly. You'd make a good pair. Unspoken: we'd make a good pair.

* * *

He meets a disaster with his cousin's face. There's only one way outta that life, sweetheart: with us, or in a body bag. Not the pep talk he woulda given, but points for trying.

Go with your Captain, Rona tells him. Show me how to make a better life, as she walks away for good. 

On the ride back to the spaceport he pours his heart out; she may enjoy talkin' but he doesn't know much 'bout her past, figures she'll open up once she's ready. She knows everything about him, 'least what matters. She could likely kill him in his sleep. Even in the face of disappointment it's all very exciting - his Captain and the sky full of stars he gets to explore with her.

* * *

Thanks pal, he interrupts the sleazy bartender, I've always thought of myself as classically good-looking. She turns, grins, admits you do have a....timeless look about you. Nice of ya to notice.

* * *

Later, he tells her: I don't know how to play those games (but it's such a friendly game) and give those gifts (but it's more than a gift, it's the present, it's the split, mindless second of recoil between firing and hittin' your target) and make you laugh (and that might be a dealbreaker, because she does enjoy laughing) like some guys. But I'll be here, when all of 'em are gone. (But they're never gone, she carries them with her, and they aren't a burden.) 

I'm your man, Captain. Any way you want me. (I want you to be quiet.) 


	3. Codetta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> appropriate music: [time after time](http://grooveshark.com/#!/s/Time+After+Time/6V4m8T?src=5) cover by sarah menescal

> _You fed your prisoner's rage, in the dungeon,_
> 
> _Through the keyhole -_
> 
> _Then, in a single, strung bound, came back up_
> 
> _The coiled, unlit stairwell._

Captain, will you give me permission to seek your hand? Keep it up and you may even get the rest of me. Important parts. She sidles up to him, threatening-like, on the prowl. 

I like bad boys, she says, I'd rather hear you askin' for forgiveness than permission. I hope I never do anything to ya that needs forgiveness. At the rate we're goin', I dunno if you're ever gonna do anything to me at all. She's just teasing. They circle each other like nexu cubs play-fighting. He closes the distance between them, almost gracefully, and finally terrifyingly  _what have I gotten into_ kisses her on the lips. The night ends there. 

* * *

She falls a little in love with most of the guys who catch her eye. For example, Lenn Teraan is a sweetheart. Both times they chat each other up, Bowdaar immediately feels the urge to climb some trees, spectacular Wookiee that he is. She tells herself it isn't wrong to fool around with this guy, 'cause he's nice and on her side and she isn't really seeing anyone else. Much.

Corso  _is_ there when she returns to save Lenn from a professional duelist. Farmboy doesn't intervene, 'cept when her honour's allegedly at stake. Draw! she shouts, fights dirty, blasts the snooty man twice as he wastes time screamin' at her. You sure I can't go for two? The duelist slinks away.

* * *

Risha recounts her plan for rescuing an old friend of hers on Tatooine. I don't like this, he says, usin' women for bait. What kinda man allows that? His Captain actually glares at him. What, she snaps, you getting sweet on her? Is that your problem? though that is nowhere near the issue. I don't even like her, he retorts, doesn't mean I wanna see her hurt. Risha laughs: "if you care that much, feel free to jump in front of any blaster bolts coming my way." Everyone is amused except him.

* * *

She always looks out for the little guys...and gals. As far as he's concerned, there's so much goodness bubblin' outta her that it chokes whatever bad bits she keeps talking 'bout. She's salvation in a tiny, foul-mouthed package. She's a mother without a kid, and the thought of her never settling down to have one pains him sorely. 

* * *

Are you people outta your minds? She kisses Skavak as they hurtle towards a black hole. The hell're you doin' to me, Captain? Thought you'd be more, she informs Skavak, shoots him right in the head.

She retrieves Torchy from the corpse and tosses the long-lost blaster to him. They laugh themselves hoarse as the ship jumps into hyperspace, leaving behind black hole and doomed ship and spur-of-the-moment bad decisions. All is forgiven, all is forgotten - for now. 

* * *

She flirts with Darmas Pollaran whenever he calls. "Gracious. Corso Riggs, defending your virtue. It's cute, isn't it?" Yeah, she mentally agrees, with a mixture of affection and irritation, real cute. 

* * *

 She hates it when he talks 'bout right and wrong, ends justifying means, 'cause it reminds her of the way she used to think back when she joined up with the Pubs' military, when hindsight and brass hadn't done a number on her. He only fired Torchy against Separatists, he says, figured every one he took down was one less family murdered. But what about their families? she doesn't question him. What makes it not murder - our good intentions?

Makes pulling the trigger that much more meanin'ful, you know? he concludes. Nah, guns only belong in the bedroom, she jokes.

* * *

 Still, they do have lots of fun together. Unambiguously ethical fun. Like rescuing one of Viidu's former employees from a cannibal cult. If we ever resort to cannibalism, I got dibs on Risha, she declares. Captain, that's horrible, you gotta share.

* * *

I’m not one of your rontos, Riggs, she thinks to herself. So don't expect to ride me once and own me, just like that. You can’t follow me ‘round waiting to clean up my shit. It’s my shit. _Mine_. Her mind takes the analogy and goes with it, ejects it through hyperspace, circles and loops in on itself ‘til Corso pops his head into the cockpit - _her_ cockpit - carrying a bottle; her eagle eyes spot the label _Ord Mantell 432 BTC_ and _oh shit_.

Captain, it'd be my great honour if you'd share this bottle with me. Somewhere private. 

* * *

I've never spent the night with a proper Mantellian gentleman before.

I hope it's the first of many. 

She imagines generic music swelling in the background as they kiss.

* * *

 He drinks her in with the booze.

Slurs: be my lady. I'm no lady, she reminds him, with her tongue.

* * *

 My life'd be about perfect if I could stay right here forever. And she's thought that, too, in this cockpit, with an unhealthy frequency. Every light speed jump, every asteroid field, every man at zero G. But it's never felt as true as it does now.

I won't let anyone hurt you again. You don't know what hurt me - you can't shoot holes in it and space it over some remote planet, she thinks, believe me, I've tried. Just because you like watching my rear, she says aloud instead, doesn't mean I can't still kick yours. 

There's things a man's gotta do, and one is keep his lady safe, even if she could blast him into component atoms. And she probably will, someday. He leans in close, whispers, the other's this...


	4. Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> appropriate music: [i want you, but i don't need you](http://grooveshark.com/#!/s/I+Want+You+But+I+Don+t+Need+You/4PEk2R?src=5) cover by amanda palmer

>   _Giant poppy faces flamed and charred_
> 
> _At the window. 'Look!'_
> 
> _You pointed and a blackbird was lugging._
> 
> _A worm from its bottleneck._

Then, a volley of flirtation leads to her sleeping with Numen Brock. Nobody stops her, not Risha or Bowdaar. She doesn't regret meeting the guy, doesn't regret doing it, but she does regret the look in Corso's eyes that tells her that he  _knows_ , somehow, and they're awkward 'round each other for a week 'til some wisecrack has them both doubled over in laughter and she crawls into his lap and most is forgiven and most is forgotten. 

* * *

She gets night terrors which he tries to kiss away, like they're kiddy boo-boos and not half a decade's worth of PTSD. Love can't fix everythin', she informs him. Like hyperdrives. 'S why we need Risha.

I'll be here, anyway. _C'mon, Captain_.

* * *

Staccato beat of: bite my lekku. No. Then give it a little yank. No. _I_ don't complain when you say just the tip. I don't wanna hurt ya. But if I want you to, what does that mean to you?

Maybe someday. Not tonight.

* * *

Days ebb into nights ebb into days. She takes up knitting, without telling anyone.

* * *

 I love a man who's not afraid to beg. Do you swoon, too? she teases. I can swoon! You never asked me to swoon! Thank the Force the make-up sex is good, or else she'd feel real bad 'bout the thrill she gets from hitting on anything vaguely identifying as male in his presence. 

* * *

Pull a blaster on me. What? C'mon, do it, Riggs. Captain...

She knows that look: the this-is-a-bad-idea look, the naive wariness of a kid in a warzone. It makes her feel mushy inside but boy does it kill the mood. We can even leave the safeties on, if ya want.  _What?_

Maybe someday. Definitely not tonight.

* * *

Lokir-ka is smitten with her. "I never envied tales of tragic love, but when I see you, I am filled with poetry." What do the Voss say...about love? " _My tears fall to mingle with the rain/I envy its freedom/It may plant its kiss on any soil/And watch the living grass that grows._ "  _Poetry?!_ "That is from Adasha-Ve, a woman who loves the wrong man." Never been a problem for me, she chirps. "It is my wife's favourite." Uh...you're married? she sputters. "Could I feel such things otherwise? You...look unsettled. Is it true, aliens do not require the marriage ritual to perform mating behaviors?" Well, it's preferred amongst Twi'leks, but...

No, no, Corso cuts in, you're right. She's absolutely off-limits as long as you're not married to her. 

* * *

 " _Love is water. On the lips, it quenches. On the skin, it caresses. When cold, it pierces. When in every breath, it kills._ " 

* * *

 A quick mission for Ord Mantell goes horribly wrong when they accidentally kill a group of Balmorran Resistance members disguised as Imperials. Ma'am, he promises the now-widowed Danla Zin, we'll bring you the guns your husband was after or die tryin'. Well, that was a terrible choice of words, the Captain says. They get the guns for the Resistance and watch Zin drive off the sexist brute bothering her.

The Captain locks herself in her room and drinks for a day straight. When she emerges, he looks no worse for the wear. I knew your whole only-in-it-for-the-money thing was a front! he crows. Thank you, Captain. I couldn't live with myself if we'd left Danla Zin with that pig. Hardly makes up for killin' her husband, she retorts. She's prob'ly not the first widow we've ever left - you just gotta hope it all evens out, you know?

No, she replies, then returns to her room.

* * *

We've been through a lot together, Captain. An awkward air about him. He's sweatin'. If it wasn't for you, he continues, I'd have walked away from some of it. But if you gave me a choice between you and the rest of the galaxy (and it is an awful big galaxy, she thinks) I'd still be here at your side. I love ya. His sweet smile is like a dagger.

I'll break your heart.

I know I'm not the only man in your world, and you may not be ready to change that. But I'm the one who's gonna be here when you're hurt (but she is already hurt), when you're old (but she may not make it that long), when you're ready to leave this life (why doesn't he understand that 'this life' is just that - what keeps her alive?)...no matter where you go or who it's with, I'll be waitin' right here for you to come home.

Don't fall in love with me, Corso. I'm the wrong girl for you.

Too late.

He continues, stars' sake he continues: one day you'll come back from a mission, and maybe we'll both be grey and wrinkled (I'm a bleedin' Twi'lek, we don't _do_ grey) - she opens her mouth to point this out, he stops her - and you're gonna see me and realise you can stop running (I only run so I can keep moving forward). I've been here all along. And I'll hold you in my arms and ask - her eyes well with tears - _what took ya so long_? 

* * *

No one else is ever gonna love her the way he does, she thinks. Momentarily, the open galaxy map loses its luster. 

* * *

 I've been wantin' to do this a long time. Kept waiting 'til I thought we'd be safe, but I don't think we're getting there. 

He gets on bended knee. Will you marry me, Captain? And she does something she rarely does. She hesitates.

What's wrong with keepin' our options open? I got no other options, Captain. After you, any other girl'd be like a child. Whether you give your vow or not, you've got mine. She's about to turn heel, run, run,  _run_ away, but he keeps goin': think about it, is there anyone else you'd want to spend your life with? Yeah - platonically. Bowdaar, Risha, Akaavi, her cousins, even Guss. She'd be lying if she said Corso wasn't included in that list, but she doesn't know exactly how.

I accept, she says. Be my husband, Corso.

* * *

 She performs the ceremony right there, in the cockpit. 

He says: I swear to spend my life protecting your body, honouring your spirit, and respecting your mind. My first and last goal of every day will be to bring a smile to your face -he touches the corner of her mouth - like that one.

She says: I swear to drive you crazy with jealousy, risk your life regularly, make fun of you in public...and ensure you never have a boring day again. Well, he laughs, there's an honest vow. I'll take it, Captain. (Why wouldn't you?) I love you, and I'm honoured to have you as my wife.

* * *

  _Never stop shooting_ , he signs off every correspondence, even the ones 'bout blasters blowin' up in people's faces. Couldn't write a poem, so he mashed all the lines together and they somehow still look right in a misshapen sort of way. 


	5. Recapitulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> appropriate music: [when love is gone](http://http://grooveshark.com/#!/s/When+Love+Is+Gone/4fEScJ?src=5) cover by martina mcbride

> _The lawn lay like the pristine waiting page_
> 
> _Of a prison report._
> 
> _Who would write what upon it_
> 
> _I never gave a thought._

_Never stop shooting_ , 'til the event horizon called homestead-on-Dantooine, 'til at breakfast one morning cycle he brings up the houseful of kids and for some reason she spits her caf onto the table like a startled gizka. There's an awkward silence, then Bowdaar offers to clean up. 

* * *

Look, Captain, I try not to get...sentimental...'round you (indignantly:  _really?_ ) but hear me out. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You're my family, as much or more than the one the Separatists took. As long as I live, I'll be here to serve you. And your children after if I last so long. 

I wouldn't wanna try any of this without you, she replies. Because that's what this is -  _trying_ \- with no guarantee of success, but she never did like losin'. 

You'll never have to. 

* * *

 All is quiet on the gun-and/or-lekku front.

* * *

 She visits Darmas Pollaran (or Cipher Sixteen) in prison, once. No flirting, because where Darmas was carefree and charming, the Cipher is prickly and unlikable. He gloats, "Harridax Kirill was a mere figurehead in our plot - the real mastermind was my Watcher." By the end of their session she's learned that said Watcher is 1) male 2) probably alien 3) a designation between one and ten. Good luck crackin' that nut, she tells Ardun Kothe. Kothe excuses himself to place a holocall, in private.

"I need you to talk to someone for me," he says, upon returning. "A good person through and through, though I've done wrong by her in the past. I think you'll get along."  

It's all intriguing stuff, 'til she recounts the events to Corso and he makes a face at the mention of Darmas, which for some reason puts her in one of her moods.

* * *

They do buy that homestead he keeps talkin' about: a farm, ranch lands, big estate house which they begin fixing up immediately. The first time she witnesses a sunrise, she cries. He pulls her close, says I know in a wistful voice. She can't bring herself to articulate that she's cryin' for a different reason, that the explosion of colour and light reminds her of an actual explosion, that the wind is stinging her eyes, and she hates the thought of waking daily to this, this unreality alongside the soundtrack of birds singing and children screaming. Space is silent, space is cold, and she wears it on her face for the remainder of their stay. 

* * *

What'd I do? Nothing, she answers, honestly. Then why d'you keep sneaking out at night just to sit in the cockpit and drink? 'Cause I hate myself, she answers, honestly. But not you, never you. I love ya, Captain, with everything I am - someday that'll be enough.

* * *

Miurani'aye'sabosen (code name: Cipher Nine, deep cover agent) isn't at all what the Captain expects. She's cheekily witty, youthful, and knocks back ice blasters like they're cups of water. Warm and cool. They pore over the transcripts of Darmas' conversation, and Niayes arches an eyebrow at certain points. "I think I know who he's referring to," she says, carefully, and Ayydaesha knows she's holdin' something back but she doesn't press, yet. "I'm confident, actually. But I do need to run a few checks." The Chiss rolls her red eyes, an extremely alien motion. "It figures that I have to deal with all the modern incarnations of Watcher Fives." The Captain has no idea what that means, but Niayes sounds more annoyed than concerned.

Hey - y'know, if we're ever in the same sector, we should do this again sometime. A serene smile, a pat on the shoulder. "I'd like that very much." 

* * *

Corso asks her every week, wanna go home?  _Where?_ Blink, blink. Oh, no, not now. Sweetly. Firmly. This is their offspring in its infancy, the product of their hasty union: a growing shadow of doubt, its hour come 'round at last, slouchin' towards Dantooine.

* * *

 The idea of a baby mutates from the very reason why they're arguing to the heavy duty glue which might fix them, the platitude thoughtlessly attached to the end of each scathing truth. 

* * *

 Nights bleed into days bleed into nights. Somewhere in the Outer Rim drifts a lonely ball of yarn.

* * *

Thought you'd be more, he silently tells her, before metaphorically shooting her right in the head. Every evening, without fail, to the precise tick of the chrono. Over time the sentence gets shorter but the sentiment remains.

Me too, she thinks, I thought I'd be more, too. 

* * *

Ardun Kothe takes over speaking to Niayes about Darmas, but the Cipher and the Captain keep meeting up in neutral space. It's a game to them, informally teasing information out of each other. Niayes manages to divert the topic whenever the mere hint of Darmas' Watcher is brought up - Ayydaesha figures it must be something real juicy, to have an Intelligence agent uncomfortable. 

Sometimes, they talk about their husbands. Ayydaesha can't help feeling that she's failing some arbitrary test dictating the worth of female friendships based on their usual subject matter alone, but she doesn't give a damn, because Ciphers are good at listening and observing and reading between the lines. 

"Captain - if you're in love, you should be happy." I'm  _tryin_ ', she thinks, but Niayes looks troubled, not irritated, and it bothers Ayydaesha that she had first perceived this statement as an attack. "You should be moderately happy at least 70% of the time." I'm  _tryin_ '. 

* * *

 I'll hold you in my arms and ask  _what took ya so long?_

* * *

She retreats. Folds in on herself, like a sleepy flower. An emotional wreck with a saviour complex, he stands by her door, holding his breath. He glimpsed the spark of her, once - now, he wants to see her aflame.

Take a step forward. Take two steps back. Apologize. 

* * *

 He wonders: where did ya run off to? How can I find you again? Where can I go, where you'll be mine, again? 

She wonders: am I particularly stupid? Am I too blind to see a good thing when it's slappin' me in the face? What can I do, to be my own, again?

Say it, she thinks. Say I'm disappointin' you. Say I'm not at all what you expected, that I stole another family from you, that you're not sure if I still love you. Can't - I don't wanna hurt you. But if I want you to, what does that mean to you?

* * *

 Nothing has been forgiven and everything has been forgotten.

* * *

 She tries, oh Force does she try, with all her heart and soul to feel something other than crushing resignation. It's no good. Their love is going, going; trickles down like the passage of time marked by a clepsydra. Gone? She checks hourly. Not yet - the hardest part - love will always be there, comatose, fed by the drip of ghosts of conversations, waiting for her to pull the plug.

He made a vow to be part of her life, and no document can change that. She made a vow to guard her life from anything which might claim it, and no document can change that. 

Maybe someday. Not tonight.


	6. Coda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> appropriate music: [you don't owe me anything](http://grooveshark.com/#!/s/You+Don+t+Owe+Me+Anything/68xlGk?src=5), by tonight alive

> _A dumb creature, looping at the furnace door_
> 
> _On its demon's prong,_
> 
> _Was a pen already writing_
> 
> _Wrong is right, right wrong._

She sits and stares at the galaxy map. Wanna go to Dantooine? he asks. No reply. She's outta it, sight and mind, one hand on the wheel like it always is.

Did I ever really know ya, Captain? Or did you run out on me? No reply. Looks into her blue blue _blue_ eyes - searches for hot, cold, anything - and instead there’s space in ‘em, void and vacuum, a sky without stars.


End file.
